


Atrophy

by Crazy_luna



Series: Owari Magica [64]
Category: Owari Magica
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Blood, Gen, Hallucinations, Miscarriage, Panic Attacks, contains nongraphic mentions/discussions of: miscarriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:07:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26810398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crazy_luna/pseuds/Crazy_luna
Summary: Percy's mother just want things to be how it used to be. Sadly things don't go as how she wants it.
Series: Owari Magica [64]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1815574





	Atrophy

**Author's Note:**

> 1040 points + 2exp (family&me mission)

Angelica Richards has the house to herself.  
  
Duncan was at work, Percy might have been at school, and Sierra had gone to the grocery store with a hundred dollar bill and a grocery list. The house was uncharacteristically quiet, and she couldn't stand it.  
  
She takes her glass and refills it, watching the white wine flow into the glass. It's almost full to the brim when the bottle releases its last little droplet, and she brings it to her lips to catch it on her tongue. She leaves it on the counter and goes to sit on the couch in the living room.  
  
Angelica takes a long sip.  
  
Her throat is long desensitized to the bitter wine, but she still winces from habit.  
  
 _"Mom? What's that?"_  
  
 _"This? It's uh- mommy juice."_  
  
 _"Is it good?"_  
  
 _"I'll give you a little sip, and then you decide."_  
  
She shakes her head as she remembers Percy's first "drink". He'd been six, and she was still his hero.  
  
How things had changed.  
  
Angelica takes another long sip, feeling it wash away her inhibitions for a bit.  
  
She closes her eyes when she has only a sip or two left, laying down gently. Her head was pleasantly buzzing by now.  
  
 _"Mama, are you going to live forever?"  
  
"Well- uh, no, baby. Why?"  
  
"Huh. I thought you would make that chili forever. I guess I'll do it, then."_  
  
She hadn't broken the news to him that he'd have to give up "making chili" one day too.  
  
She hadn't done a lot of things.  
  
 _“I love you, mommy.”_  
  
Angelica shook her head.  
  
 _“What’s real school like?”  
  
“What happens when dad goes to visit his sister?”  
  
“What’s an airplane like?”  
  
“Do you have any real friends?”_  
  
She should have seen that this would all come crashing down at some point. Everything would change. Even a little bit, it’d change.  
  
 _“When do I get to be a real kid?”_  
  
Angelica finished the glass, getting up to pour another one. Her balance had worsened, and the buzzing in her head was only getting louder. Things felt slower, and the memories played faster and louder.  
  
 _“So it was a big deal, when they got to go to school?”  
  
“Yeah, baby.”  
  
“So, when do I get to go to school?”  
  
-  
  
“You and dad are going to a high school reunion?”  
  
“Yes, for the weekend.”_  
  
She hadn’t missed his scowl.  
  
-  
  
 _“Mama are you pregnant?”  
  
“Mama, I want a little sister.”  
  
“Mama- am I always gonna be alone?”_  
  
-  
  
Angelica covered her face with one hand as the other weakly tried to get the corkscrew into the cork at the top of the bottle.  
  
She didn’t want to cry.  
  
She’d wanted to have a big family, or atleast three kids. Herself, Duncan, and three beautiful kids.  
  
But then came the problems.  
  
The fear. The anxiety. The distrust in her own body.  
  
The blood.  
  
The failures.  
  
What kind of woman was she?  
  
She pressed her face into her hands, dropping the corkscrew. She felt dizzy. She couldn’t breathe.  
  
Why had she ever screamed at Duncan, screamed that she wanted a girl?  
  
Why had she become the mother she was? Her mother was distant and always busy, a working woman, and all she’d had was herself and Anton and the dogs. Instead, Angelica became overbearing and bitter and hateful.  
  
She should have listened to her mother.  
  
She should have listened to Anton.  
  
She should have listened to Duncan.  
  
Angelica pitched forward, knocking into the glass and the unopened bottle. Both crashed into each other, the glass breaking immediately, the bottle rolling off the counter and slamming to the ground. Wine went everywhere, the glass exploding across the floor.  
  
Tears started openly pouring down her face. She slipped and fell into the mess.  
  
 _“I just want to go to the park! Why can’t I get out of this stupid house?”  
  
“It’s not safe!”  
  
“Mom!”  
  
-  
  
“We’re sorry miss, but you… can’t have any more children. It was a miracle that you had him at all.”  
  
-  
  
“I hate you!”  
  
-  
  
“Because you never care.”  
  
-  
  
“Why are you doing this? Where did my little boy go?”  
  
“Anywhere you weren’t. Don’t call me.”  
  
-  
  
“Mama, I don’t want to live like this.”  
  
-  
  
“Mama, please let me go to school. I can’t do this anymore.”  
  
-  
  
“Mom, did you ever get to really live?”_  
  
Angelica sobbed, wiping at her face desperately with too-sticky hands, head still spinning. The stench of wine was mixing with blood where the glass had dug into her skin, and she couldn’t calm down enough to get up. Even if she had her balance back, which she definitely didn’t, she couldn’t have navigated the kitchen like this.  
  
“Mom?”  
  
She froze, eyes meeting her son’s.  
  
He looked scared.  
  
She felt scared.  
  
Another round of drunken tears escaped her.  
  
An awkward twenty minutes later, the kitchen was cleaned, she was sitting in fresh pajamas on her bathroom floor, and her wounds were bandaged. She was sipping on a glass of ice water, looking at where her son was leaning against the sink.  
  
When had he grown up?  
  
She hiccuped softly, cheeks flushed and hot with wine and embarrassment. Good mothers didn’t sob in a puddle of wine and blood on their kitchen floors.  
  
Good mothers didn’t drink all the time.  
  
Good mothers didn’t call their husbands bad things.  
  
Good mothers didn’t wish that their children had never been born.  
  
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”  
  
She blinks in confusion.  
  
Why was her little boy apologizing to her?  
  
“Percy?”  
  
He sinks down to sit in front of her. His face didn’t look like it used to. No more chubby baby fat, no more familiar smile. He didn’t look like her son anymore.  
  
“I’m sorry, mom. This is my fault, right?” He looked between her hands and her tear stained cheeks. “Because of what I said?”  
  
“No- baby.” Angelica shook her head. “It’s my fault. I did this.”  
  
Percy closed his eyes, pressing his lips together. He was always so strong for her.  
  
He was always her baby. Even when he left his dirty socks lying around the house, or played video games until six in the morning, or snuck out every night and never spoke to her.  
  
She pulled him closer, wrapping her arms around him and holding his face to her neck.  
  
She couldn’t keep herself from crying again, but she also didn’t miss that his cheeks remained dry.  
  
It was fine. It was enough.  
  
He was there.


End file.
